


A Question of Grief

by Epitumbidia



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-15 17:05:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12325227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Epitumbidia/pseuds/Epitumbidia
Summary: Sometime after the fall of Insomnia, the bros have a heart to heart about everything and everyone they've all lost.Written for the FFXV Chocobros Gift Exchange 2017





	A Question of Grief

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lyrecho](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyrecho/gifts).



The words swirled inside of Noctis, the despair in Ignis' voice palpable as he announced the unthinkable: Insomnia had fallen to the empire and its king, Regis Lucis Caelum—no, _his father_ above all else—along with them.

In that moment, Noctis felt his life had been cleaved in two: the life before, where he could pretend to have any semblance of normalcy or structure in his life, and the life after, where his father lies dead within the shattered wall and where countless innocent people died alongside him. He could hear the others talking, asking questions they knew they either couldn't answer or those questions they already knew the answer to, but the sound escaped Noctis. Inside himself, he flew back to that moment on the staircase, where he bid his father well for the last time. He was so eager to leave, to see outside the walls—but more than anything, he couldn't stand the sight of his father withering away anymore. That crystal was an illness made of stone and with every limp his father took, the bile seeped further inside Noctis' heart, the resentment festering more and more. Every step his father took was logical when it came to his kingdom, but it wasn't until this moment of learning his death that the logical ceased to matter and the question of his heart poured into his mind.

Why hadn't he been more prepared? Why had his father given him all these freedoms, to be anything but a prince in name only? The deep ache in his chest pulses, remembering the lost time between them and the worst thought of all at the forefront of everything: he never got to say goodbye. That despite knowing the growing tensions and the notion of war looming above them all, Noctis just knew he could walk back into Insomnia, back to his father with all the words he couldn't say on those steps before he left.

Until he couldn't anymore, so now what's left to be a king of? A graveyard?

Somebody pulled on his arm, shaking Noctis lightly while the voices in the background came back into focus: "What's our next step," one of them asked, probably Ignis. He turned to see Prompto, hand shaking while he held on with tears welling up. If nothing else, he was glad to see Prompto expressing what he couldn't because his own tears weren't there—not until he sees his father with his own two eyes and confirm the truth.  

"We're going back," Noctis commanded, with that tone he's so loathed to use with his comrades but he had no time for debate. They needed to go—but it's not to be.

The empire erected a blockade around the city, but even from their view atop of steep hill revealed the truth: Insomnia was ravaged, smoke and fire a testament to the empire's power. For the empire to have attacked this way, so soon after his father had sent them away...the realization throttled Noctis in the stomach.

 _His father knew_.

There was too much at stake, too much of a convenience to send him off at just the right moment. All this destruction, all this death, just to protect him. The darkest parts of his mind wailed, urged his better senses to join them but his hands remained at his side, his mouth clenched shut. Again, the voices of his comrades spoke of plans and safety, but Noctis heeded them no mind. What he needed was the truth, to hear it from somebody who was in the city when it happened. As he reached for his phone, his immediate thought was to call Clarus until he remembered—of course. If his father was truly dead, then so was his shield. He nearly dropped his phone at the thought before catching himself, hoping his comrades (especially Gladiolus) couldn't see the anguish of the realization on his face. Who else could he call on now?  

"Noct, were you listening? We should contact the marshal to see if he has any information about what happened," Ignis suggested.

"Yeah, Cor," Noctis responded curtly as he called, the unease growing with each passing beep of the dial tone. Once Cor finally picked up, there was nothing left to hope for: his father was truly gone.

They were to meet up with Cor at Hammerhead and figure out the next steps from there. For once, Noctis appreciated Cor's brevity on the matter since he could barely bring himself to speak without the sound of rage against his tongue. They needed to leave, Noctis thought as he turned away to walk back to the Regalia; he has to get as far away from the smell of burning steel as possible before he does something he'll surely regret later. He doesn't speak outside of confirming their next location as he sat in the backseat with eyes averted from everything except the emptiness of the plains, knowing deep inside that this may be the last time he'll ever be here again.

Not like that mattered now. The empire's destruction was all Noctis could hold on to.

* * *

It was as though the heavens matched the mood of the moment, with gray skies and rain pouring down as the four rode back to Hammerhead in utter silence; yet that silence spoke louder to Noctis than anything that could've been said. The sound of rain against the car was a stabilizing force, the pitter-patter keeping Noctis from spiraling deeper into himself. But this silence weighed heavily in a way he wasn't used to sensing; with a quick glance around the car, he could see Prompto with his head down when his usual post was with his face turned to the sky with camera in hand; with Gladio, the book in his hand was opened but he made no attempt to turn it, clearly not reading anything but wanting to give the illusion of normalcy; and Ignis kept his head forward, both hands on the steering wheel with none of his bright wit anywhere to be found. The air in the car tightened down on Noctis' chest as he tried to breathe in even takes, if only for the distraction of routine to take his mind off the want to throttle something, anything. Turning to look out of his side of the window, the rain washed out all color until the terrain melted together into a never-ending gray, which began to numb the pain into apathy inside of Noctis—or at least turned into something that would ease the pain.

When they reached Hammerhead, Noctis needed all of his ability to pay attention to whatever Cid, the owner of the Hammerhead garage, was saying—something about knowing his dad and meeting up with Cor at a tomb somewhere nearby was all he could muster to gather. Noctis clenched his hands open and shut, the repeated motion his way to wring control over the returning anger, but he nodded and responded in clipped words whenever someone spoke to him. There wasn't any time for talking, but given this runaround that Cor intended for them to do, he's already dreading what the marshal has to tell him. As he bid his farewell to Cid, he's stopped by a hand gripping at his shoulder which swung him around to face the scowl of his shield.

"Hey, were you even listening?" Gladiolus asked, barely able to contain his annoyance in his tone.

"Yeah Gladio, we're meeting Cor at the tomb in Keycatrich Ruins," hissed back, shoving Gladiolus' hand off his shoulder as he continued: "And I'm starving, so I'm gonna grab something to eat."

Noctis strides past Gladiolus before the other man could respond towards the diner, where he's greeted by Prompto who, six bless him, is trying his hardest to maintain something resembling normalcy with his sunny attitude in the face of tragedy. When the four of them finally sat down to eat, cramped within the stalls with barely any elbow room, the difference between his life before and his life after the fall flashed before his mind's eye; just as when he ate with his father alone in that large room with that long table that measured the distance between them, Noctis sensed the heaviness in that distance now—nothing had changed.

And so they ate, their words solemn with what's to come and Noctis seeing his future losing its color more and more with every step he took towards it.

* * *

The march towards the Tomb of the Wise, as Noctis later bothered to remember when Ignis brought it up in idle chatting, was marked with battles with the imperial army; the practical side of his mind knew he needed to avoid all contact with them given the circumstances of his announced "death," but he relished in battle, needing no further excuse to take out his frustrations on those responsible for the devastation. The energy of the crystal raced through him after he cut down one solider after the next, until the retreating ships scattered in the distance. When a hand touched his hips, Noctis flinched and instinctually elbowed back, nearly striking Ignis in the process when he saw his advisor hop back in surprise.

"Are you all right, Noct?" Ignis murmured, who made a point to stand in front of him, blocking Gladiolus and Prompto from his view.

"Yeah, I'm great," Noctis spat back, his tone harsher than he intended, cringing in regret the moment the words left his mouth. The words sank deeper into Noctis when he saw the frown that grew on Ignis' face in response. "Sorry, Iggy, it's not you. Thanks, let's get going." Ignis stood still, stone-faced and wholly unsatisfied with that answer. Noctis stared back at Ignis, refusing to give him any room to object. After a long moment of silence, Ignis nodded once before turning his attention back towards the entrance of the tomb a short distance away.

“Don’t hurt yourself, Noct. Now more than ever, we need you to survive,” Ignis stated, his head still turned away from Noctis.

“You worry too much, Iggy. I can handle myself,” Noctis asserted as he walked past Ignis to rejoin Prompto and Gladiolus, the heat from Ignis’ stare burning on the back of his head.

* * *

The apology Noctis planned died on his tongue as his laid his eyes upon the Immortal himself at the foot of the entrance.

Cor Leonis, faithful member of the Crownsguard and one of his father’s fiercest allies, led the group down through the tomb with little fanfare, which suited Noctis just fine. He even managed a chuckle while watching Prompto’s clear awe for the marshal, knowing he could count on Prompto to lighten the mood, no matter how short the moment turns out to be. But all of that came to a halt once they reached their destination—the coffin which held one of the royal arms of a long dead king of Lucis. It’s in this place of death and time lost where Cor confirmed all of fears Noctis pushed down since learning of Insomnia’s fall: that his father knew of the impending invasion and sent Noctis out of the city to prevent the imperial forces from capturing him, all while giving his precious ring to Lunafreya, now putting her in grave danger as well.

So much destruction, so much death, all for his sake.

The words spilled out before Noctis could stop him—anger over the lies told to him by his father, why was he thrust into a role as king that he’s been trained for, why the blood of innocents had to be shed just to protect him and him alone.

“Because Regis wanted you to remember him as a father, not a king. He raised you to be a good man first, so that you may protect your people as king,” Cor stated emphatically.

“I guess I don’t have a choice…” was all Noctis could say.

* * *

 

 _Choice_.

That word lingered in the back of his throat, its meaning rendered meaningless as the notion of having say in his future rotted away in his mind. Noctis was ready for today to be over, to lie down and sleep this every growing nightmare away. The day had been long and after receiving the first of his royal arms, there were no objections to his request to rest at a nearby haven, situated on a cliff overlooking the plains. While Gladiolus and Prompto helped set up camp and Ignis busied himself with cooking dinner, Noctis sat down on the edge of the cliff, feet hanging off the edge as he watched the sunset, lost in himself once more. That's how the entire day felt to him, shifting between acute awareness of his emotions yet completely disconnected from them all at once. He replayed Cor's words in his mind over and over again, tried to make sense of why they left him with a sickening pit in his stomach.

It all came back to that word: Choice. The king had to make many choices for the sake of his people, but as a father? He chose peace over duty for Noctis, but what good did that do him now? How could Noctis dare call himself a king if he barely understood how to be a prince outside of the privileges it brought him? What say did he have in anything if his father didn't even bother to tell him the truth of the empire's plan to strike? The questions speed through him, each one reinforcing the one conclusion Noctis didn't want to face, but must acknowledge now: He had no choice—because _he was never aware of there being one in the first place_.

A hand gripped his shoulder, breaking the spiral that threatened to sink Noctis further into himself. He didn't turn to look at whoever touched him, for he feared the reaction he'd get with the scowl he sported on his face.

"Hey, dinner's ready," Prompto whispered gently as his hand traveled down Noctis' shoulder to his arm. "You've been kinda out of it for a while. Wanna talk about it?"

"Not really," Noctis replies, dismissing Prompto with a wave of his arm as he stood up and walked back to the camp; Prompto, however, didn't let go of his hold as he turned Noctis around to face him again, and it's then when Noctis actually looked at Prompto head-on, with barely held-back tears and a flush across his face.

"Noct...you know we're here for you right? You can talk to us..." Prompto started, his voice quiet and shaking.

Noctis nodded his head, not knowing how else to respond to the obvious statement. _Of course_ all three men were there for him, they had to be—Prompto less so than Ignis and Gladiolus, but Prompto's words ran deep into his skin, rushing back to that word again. His stomach turned at the thought, the darker part of his mind feeding into his deepest held insecurity: that they were all here because of duty and obligation, not because they actually wanted to be near him, to be his friend—that his only use was to be the king, a figurehead of all the hope he felt none of.

"Thanks Prom, but I just want to eat now," Noctis replied with a smile as forced as he could muster. Prompto glanced to the side, clearly unconvinced but thankfully for Noctis, he said nothing more and together they walked back to the camp, where Ignis served them wordlessly.

The campfire's light lit up the surroundings as the four sat around the fire in a makeshift circle; it wasn't the normal formation, where they all sat most or less side to side, but given the mood of the day, nobody had any objections to having their own space to breathe while they ate. Noctis didn't even bother to ask Ignis what he cooked—some kind of stew—but it didn't matter; the food tasted cold, and the warm aroma held no comfort either.

A loud clank broke the silence, startling Noctis into looking up from his food; On his left, Prompto yelped as he nearly dropped his bowl; to his right, Ignis held his gaze to his right, eyes squinted and clearly aggravated by what he saw. When Noctis looked directly ahead of him, through the flames he saw Gladiolus, his eyes wide, staring straight at him. The bonfire blocked most of the view for Noctis, saved for the other man's eyes, which blazed with the reflection of the flames. The color of honey in Gladiolus' eyes, which once contained mirth and a sense of long held pride, now shot fury across the camp, sending a chill down Noctis' spine. He knew that glare was for him and him alone, placing his bowl on the ground in preparation of whatever words Gladiolus clearly bit his tongue over the last few hours.

"So, what is it Noct?" Gladiolus asked, the tension in his voice as obvious as the ire he poorly attempted to contain.

"About what?" Noctis shot back, his gaze remaining on the bonfire and not on the other man's eyes.

"Fuck off," Noctis hissed through his teeth as he heard a gasp from Prompto in response.

"Was that truly necessary, Noct?" Ignis admonished. The scratch of metal against the rock signaled that somebody had stood up, but as Noctis looked up to check, his view is blocked by Ignis and Gladiolus; both men were facing each other in front of him, the light of the bonfire magnifying the harsh lines of aspiration on their faces. Ignis stood with his back slightly turned toward Noctis, as though shielding him from the man who officially had that title.

"Gladio...today has been trying on us all. We all need to rest for the night that we may be prepared to face the road ahead of us," Ignis stated in an a low, almost monotonous voice—each word's weight dropping as carefully as Ignis could manage.

"Yeah? The maybe someone needs to be an adult here and not act like a petty asshole around here," Gladiolus finished; though he kept his eyes on Ignis, it was understood who those words were aimed for.

Noctis clenched his hands again, his fingernails digging into his palms this time, if only to keep himself from throttling Gladiolus like he desperately wanted to in that moment. "Petty? Is that how you think I feel? How about pissed? Infuriated? Betrayed?" Noctis barked at Gladiolus, teeth clattering as he spoke, the bile rising up inside him the longer he stood still.

"Maybe you haven't noticed, since your head has been so far up your own ass today, but you've done nothing but push us away when we've been trying to talk to you," Gladiolus replied, the words slicing through the heart of matter as bluntly as he knew the shield could only do. "And no Iggy, you can't defend this shit either," Gladiolus continued, causing Ignis to sputter wordlessly for a loss of response.

"Hey guys..." Prompto's whispered behind the two older men, shaky and unsure.

“And what’s there to talk about? Insomnia is gone, my dad’s dead, and I’m a king of nothing, I know all that already. What else are you gonna tell me? To suck it up, be a good example like Cor said? Tell me how!” Noctis cried, his eyes clouded with unshed tears. Gladiolus opened his mouth to repsond, only to shut it back up, shaking his head sadly. “Listen to yourself, Noct. What good is this all going to do you, or anybody else? Shit sucks, but we both know what needs to be done now,” Gladiolus stated sighing in resignation.

“Gladio, Noct, let’s call it a nigh—“ Ignis began before he’s cut off by a bright flash of blue light emanating from Noctis, knocking all three men down to the ground. The power of the armiger hung in the air , a force that serpareted Noctis from what his baser urges wished to do; instead, his body shook in place as the tears freely flowed down his face. From what he could barely tell, the looks of shock from Prompto, rage from Gladiolus, and disbelief from Ignis were unmistakable.

“It’s also so easy, so fucking easy for you to say that, huh Gladio?! It’s always about duty, about knowing what do to all the time, isn’t it? BE the king, be the protector, but how?! I barely know how to be a prince? How can I even dare to be a king?! I never knew—he never taught me anything! My dad wanted me to remember him as a good man, but how is that supposed to help me be a good king?! You have all the answers, so tell me! Tell me why I’m still here and not dead in the ground like he is! Tell me why I shouldn’t have been there to defend my home?! All these people died because of me! My dad died for me!” Noctis bellowed, his screams crackling in the air as the armiger glowed brighter. Noctis couldn’t see any of his friends now, only blue mixed with the red and orange of the bonfire; the colors swirl around him until the scorching heat flowed through his blood, with the screeching of his name the last thing he heard before his world went black.

* * *

The dim light of the bonfire greeted Noctis as he opened his eyes; from what little he could see and hear, there was nobody else in the tent. He winced as he tried to raise his arm, but the cramping proved too painful. He waved his arm to his side, the rough material of the tent only adding to the heavy ache he felt all over his body. Even keeping his eyes opened for longer than a few seconds at a time was a struggle, the anger now given way to something much deeper: regret. The sound of the flap opening brought the light back into view, and Noctis turned away with shut eyes. He hoped that whoever climbed into the tent would think he was asleep and leave him be, but a soft touch of fingers running up and down his arm left him shivering. It couldn’t be Ignis with the lack of leather gloves against him and Gladiolus probably didn’t want to be in the same country as him at the moment, much less a tent, so it could only be…

“Prom…?”

“Hi,” Prompto replied sheepishly as Noctis heard his friend’s shuffling to lie do next to him. Prompto’s hand landed on his shoulder, his thumb tracing circles lightly on his skin as the two listened to the sound of the bonfire and their own breathing.

“I just…I hope you don’t take this the wrong way Noct, but that whole thing back there was…” Prompto trailed off as he shook his head, the top of his hair tickling against Noctis.

“Stupid,” Noctis finished, coughing loudly from the pain. “I’m an asshole, you can tell me.”

“No, not that. We…we just want to help, you. You know Gladio can be a bit…blunt, but it’s been hard to keep up with you if you won’t talk to us,” Prompto confessed, this hand moving down from Noctis’ shoulder to his forearm as me massaged lightly.

Noctis nodded slightly a he turned his head to face Prompto, barely seeing anything but the lines of his body from the light behind them. “I…I just felt so lost today. Everything I’ve known, just gone…and I only wanted to hurt something, wanted to be hurt….” Noctis rattled off, shutting his eyes once more to force the tears back again.

Prompto nodded and he grabbed Noctis’ hand, holding it tightly. “And we’re always going to be here for you, Noct. We need you to know that, OK?”

Noctis squeezed Prompto’s hand back, opening his mouth to say something before shaking his head and saying nothing. What could he say to that other than apologize, over and over again?

“Hey, before I forget, Iggy said he and Gladio can sleep outside tonight if you want them to,” Prompto stated, releasing Noctis’ hand to roll over onto his back.

Noctis shook his head vehemently, using the little strength to sit up on his elbows. “No, tell them to come in. Don’t le-” Noctis sputtered as he flew into a coughing fit, nearly dropping down before Prompto catches him and holds him upright.

“It’s OK, they can handle themselves for the night, just rest now,” Prompto reasoned.

“No, it’s not fair. Call them,” Noctis finished as he attempted to escape from Prompto’s grip, reaching his arm out to the tent’s flap. Prompto tightened his hold on Noctis as he sighed in resignation, calling out for Ignis and Gladiolus to come in. The flap opened in seconds, with both men crawling in; Noctis hung his head low, the shame of his earlier display rushing back to him. The shuffling soon died down, but when Noctis refused to look up, a pair of hand cusped his face, the leather clad hands smooth to the touch.

“Are you all right, Noct?” Ignis asked, unable to hide the shaking worry from his voice any longer.

Noctis closed his eyes, breathing in and out slowly before opening them again, searching his surroundings: Ignis in front, Prompto to his right side, but he couldn’t see Gladiolus until he felt a large hand grab his ankle; that hand alternated between a tight grip and a light squeeze, but not a sound came from Gladiolus’ direction. Taking another breath to find his courage, Noctis turned his head slightly to the left, or at least the small amount he could under the strain of pain to look at his shield.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say,” Noctis started, before sighing in resignation. “No, scratch that. You were right, Gladio: I’ve done nothing but act like a child, throwing a tantrum like that when you all wanted to help me. So…,” Noctis trailed off.

“I still stand by what I said, but I didn’t take your mood into consideration. Forgive me,” Gladiolus conceded, crawling up closer to the Noctis so that they were facing each other in full view. “Don’t you think we should hear Iggy and Prom out too?” Gladiolus suggested a small smile on his face. Noctis chuckled softly, glad to see that Gladiolus was no long upset, the welcoming warmth returning to his eyes.

“Yeah, if you two don’t mind, I don’t think I should be the only one with the floor open here,” Noctis urged, leaning his head on Prompto’s shoulder for support.

Ignis coughed softly, averting his eyes—Noctis understood that was Ignis’ silent way of conveying his unease at the suggestion. He looked over at Prompto, his eyes wide, but a smile lowly formed on his face when Noctis reached over to hold his hand again, hoping that Prompto understood the unspoken invitation.

“I didn’t want to say anything at first…my life in the city wasn’t anything special until I met you guys,” Prompto started, pausing to breathe as he wiped the corners of his eyes. “But when I heard the news, all I could think about was my parents. I mean, we weren’t exactly close, but they were…they were…” Prompto stuttered, turning his head away as the light of the bonfire highlighted his flushed, tear-stained face. Ignis placed his hand on Prompto’s shoulder, pulling Prompto closer between him and Noctis, where he wrapped his arm around Prompto in a half hug. The intimacy of the position wasn’t lost on anybody, but there wasn’t nothing to be said as Prompto leaned his head on Ignis’ shoulder. “The worst thing is, at least I can defend myself. If we were still there, could I have saved them? Are they still alive? There’s so much I want to know, but we can’t go back…”

Ignis shook his head as he responded: “And the empire made sure that none of us can.”

“Iggy…” Noctis and Prompto whispered at the same time as a small smile crept up on Ignis, touched by the concern.

“Though I can’t speak to losing one’s parents, the news of invasion was…” Ignis began his voice falters. “You saw me. The words written on that newspaper as I read them, it was as though I was outside of myself. The empire has taken my peace away, however fragile that sense of safety was. There was comfort in routine, one that I didn’t appreciate until that moment. Now, only chaos surrounds me, and if it were not for us being together, I would be lost…”

“That’s not true, Ignis. Don’t sell yourself short,” Gladiolus complimented, the firm voice driving the other three men to turn his way. “You’re one of the sharpest people I know, you would’ve figured it out soon enough.”

“I wish I could have such conviction in this time of crisis, but thank you Gladio,” Ignis replied, shyly hiding his smile behind one of his hands.

“And what about you, Gladio?” Noctis inquired, looking into his shield’s eyes for the first time since their argument.

“What can I say? My father laid down his life for the crown, there’s no other way he could go. Just as I am ready to do for you, Noct,” Gladio stated, his voice flattened with the unusually casual tone he spoke with.

“Try again, that didn’t answer my question. What about _you_?” Noctis urged.

Gladiolus covered his eyes with his hands, his lips pursed in thought. With his hand still covering his eyes, he continued on: “I never had a problem with dying, with death. It’s something that my dad instilled me in ever since my role as the future shield became clear. But it’s not just me either, there’s Iris too. I don’t know if I can bear the thought of losing her.”

As Noctis struggled to sit up straight, he stretched his arm over the graze Gladiolus’ knee, overcome with the need to touch him, for any kind of comfort he could give. “Gladio, if my dad knew what would happen like Cor said, then I’m sure your dad knew too. He got Iris out of harm’s way, I’m sure of it,” Noctis insisted.

“That’s the most logical conclusion,” Ignis added.

“Yeah, there’s no way Iris is hurt, we just need to find out where she is,” Prompto finished.

Gladiolus stared at his comrades incredulously before he shuffled closer to them; the four of them sat in a tight circle as Gladiolus patted Noctis on his shoulder, gaining a yelp from the prince as his reward. “You guys and Iris are all I have now. I can’t fail, but what if I’m not enough?”

“You are enough, Gladio. You always have been for me,” Noctis confessed, moving his hand in the ground in the middle of the open space of their makeshift circle. “And as we have each other, there’s nothing to fear.”

“Oh, where did this sudden jolt of confidence come from?” Gladiolus joked, placing his hand on top of Noctis’ in the middle. Ignis’ hand joined in the circle, leading the three to look at Prompto, who shakily places his hand on top of the pile of hands.

“Good, I didn’t have to drag you in here,’ Noctis laughed, smiling fully for the first time in what felt like an eternity.  

“Well, I just had to make sure your claws wouldn’t crush my delicate hands,” Prompto chuckled back, causing Noctis to laugh out loud, with Ignis and Gladiolus joining in. Noctis removed his hand from the circle as he laid back down, pulling on Prompto’s arm to join him.

“When this is all over, once we kick the empire’s ass, we’ll go back home. Rebuild Insomnia, do everything we can for the survivors. That’s the least we can do,” Noctis declared.

“Yes, your majesty,” Ignis responded in earnest.

“Don’t, it’s too early for titles,” Noctis yawned before looking up at them, “But I mean it. We’re in this together now. I’ll try not to hold back what I feel anymore, but if I do, slap me upside the head or something.”

“Is that a royal decree? Because I call dibs,” Prompto joked as he settled down next to Noctis. Ignis turned back to zip up the flap before joining Prompto and Noctis, then Gladiolus moved to rest behind Ignis.

“Thank you, guys,” Noctis whispered to himself, the warmth of his friends filling him as the call of sleep claims him for the night.


End file.
